Chapter 61

Born to two nobles of a great house, Solif had awakened tremendous mana at a younger age than most and enjoyed nothing short of a smooth road through life. There had been conflicts and disappointments now and then, but most things had gone his way—more than enough to turn him into a young noble armed with a healthy measure of self-esteem and arrogance.

But ten years ago, when he turned forty-eight, Solif first realized that something about his life was strange. It began when he met a distant relative at a family event and noticed a scar on the back of the man's hand identical to one his childhood friend had borne—a friend who had died.

"A friend?"

"Yes. He died because of me."

In his mid-teens, Solif, as adventurous then as he was now, had sneaked away from home with a friend who had grown up like a brother to him. He wanted to earn mana for himself, gain real combat experience, and see the world.

But when they went to hunt a monster threatening a village, the young Solif realized it was far too strong for him. At the critical moment, the friend who had run away with him sacrificed himself to save Solif's life, leaving a deep wound in his heart.

Somehow making his way home, Solif vowed never to leave the house so recklessly again and buried his adventurous spirit deep in his heart. But...

"Just in case, I dug up my friend's grave—the one where my family supposedly buried the body they'd recovered. There was nothing in it. And that relative had been away on some secret special assignment from the time I was eight until I turned fifteen."

All the circumstances pointed to that relative disguising himself as a child to play the self-sacrificing friend. He had probably made clever use of a magic tool suited to disguises.

Solif was devastated to learn that the defining childhood event that had shaken his very character had been a sham.

"Later, I went through the records. The monster that threatened me had exactly the same characteristics as one our house had raised and released. They even released it right when it all happened."

A closer examination of his past revealed that this was far from an isolated incident.

There had been a relative around his own age whose superior magical ability he had always envied and admired, someone he had trained desperately to surpass. That relative had eventually been sent to the countryside, disappeared, and been forgotten.

The maid he had loved passionately, who had left because she found the difference in their stations too daunting, had a fabricated past, right down to her recorded birthplace.

Even several friends who shared his interest in history turned out never to have shown any interest in the subject before spending time with him.

"You get it now, don't you? What I mean when I say the entire house was manufacturing me. That's why I escaped. Whatever I encounter or choose out here, at least it won't be staged."

Since escaping, he said, he had been searching for his true self, changing everything from his manner of speaking to the personality he had been trained to have. As he finished his explanation, Solif tipped back a liquor bottle Turan hadn't noticed him take out.

"I couldn't even dream of drinking like this back home."

"Have you ever thought about who did it, or why?"

"I don't know. Given the scale of it, the House Head must have been involved, though."

The lack of any deference in his tone betrayed Solif's resentment toward his House Head.

Listening to him, Turan recalled the account of Freyans surviving by transferring to other bodies. If they had survived to the present, and were still changing bodies, they would naturally want those of talented, powerful wizards. The heir to a great house would more than meet those requirements.

'One of the laws of magic: the more plausible something is, the less mana it consumes...'

If they were using Living Spirit Sorcery, that law might not necessarily apply. But by magical principles, at least, replacing a person's soul with one whose personality and interests matched would surely be more efficient. An abrupt change in personality was undeniably unnatural.

It occurred to him that Maysa might be in a similar situation. In both innate talent and status, wasn't she an ideal candidate to serve as a god's body?

She had never mentioned anyone manipulating her surroundings as they had Solif's, but perhaps she simply hadn't noticed yet. It might even be connected to her refusal to eat, or the reason she had come to loathe her house...

While Turan was lost in thought, Solif suddenly tossed him the bottle he had been drinking from.

"What's this?"

"We've been talking about nothing but dreary things. It's killing the mood. Have a drink. You can drink, can't you?"

Turan looked down at the dark brown liquor for a moment, then took a mouthful. A fierce heat slid down his throat.

"That's strong."

"It's made by fermenting and distilling sugarcane juice. A South Sea specialty."

With that, Solif steered the conversation back to his adventures in an attempt to lighten the mood. Turan drank with him and played along before casually raising a question.

"Do you ever plan to return to your house?"

"Hmm? I don't know. Probably not, unless something changes. Once I'm as strong as the House Head, I might go back to tear it all down."

"Never go back. Better yet, go farther away if you can, somewhere your house won't find you. Somewhere far to the west."

Solif blinked as though wondering what he meant, but Turan could hardly give him any more clues. Offering evidence for his theory would mean revealing far too many secrets.

Besides, what if Solif were captured someday, and torture, Living Spirit Sorcery, or any number of other methods exposed their conversation to whoever was behind it? If those beings learned that someone knew of their existence, they would never simply let it pass.

* * *

After talking through the night, Solif headed south, saying they should meet again if they had the chance.

Turan hoped he could stay out of his house's sight for as long as possible. They had only spent a day together, crossed swords, and shared a few drinks, but it would still be upsetting to see someone he knew suddenly suffer something as good as death: having his body stolen.

As the sun rose, Turan caught a few fish for a simple breakfast, then flew northeast with Vije. He had originally intended to take a leisurely voyage by ship, but what he had just learned changed his plans.

'I should secure a supply of Spirit of Fire quickly, then visit Arabion. Even if I can't establish whether there's a god involved, I should at least be able to find out whether someone really is manipulating Maysa's life...'

Judging by Lida's request, House Ravista was likely free of the Freyans' shadow. A god who had survived to this day would either already have secured a White Elf or have no need for one.

He had no connections to Zahar or the other great houses, making even an approach difficult. Arabion, on the other hand, should be relatively easy to investigate through his ties to House Berg and Maysa. He had also used the Mimic Holy Relic to pose as someone with the Barrier-user bloodline, so he ought to attract relatively little suspicion...

If bad luck put him in a dangerous situation along the way, he could unleash tremendous firepower with Spirit of Fire to escape. For that, though, he would have to obtain a large amount of saltpeter this time.

Deep in his planning, Turan touched his face as a thought struck him.

'A magic tool that could change my appearance would be useful. Is there some way to get one?'

The very existence of someone who could imitate multiple bloodline abilities was virtually unknown. Combining the two, he could play dozens of people all by himself. It might be worth searching for such a treasure before heading to Arabion. Of course, it wasn't the sort of thing he could readily obtain just because he wanted it.

He spent three or four hours flying, lost in thought. After landing on several islands along the way to ask for directions, Turan finally reached Parayan Island.

Known as a source of saltpeter, it was a moderately sized island several kilometers long. From above, it appeared to have a village as well. Descending to a suitable height, he focused on his sense of smell and caught saltpeter's peculiar urine-like odor from somewhere near the island's center.

Turan asked Vije to land in a suitable spot, then walked toward the smell. After a few minutes pushing through dense trees, he spotted a cave beneath an enormous cliff, its walls and ceiling braced with wooden posts. A metallic hammering sounded from within.

'Is this the place?'

No one was guarding the mine entrance, so Turan went straight inside. Before long, he saw miners extracting white ore from the walls by flickering torchlight. Neither their complexions nor their clothing looked particularly good.

'Mining isn't exactly clean work, but this seems a bit much...'

The miners had gaunt faces, clothes reeking of ingrained filth, and bruises scattered over their bodies. Every one of them even wore shackles around his ankles. Looking for all the world like slaves, they bowed their heads in terror when Turan suddenly appeared among them.

"We've been working hard, overseer!"

"... Overseer?"

The miners' expressions changed at Turan's puzzled response. On closer inspection, the young man's clothes and demeanor were nothing like those of the overseers they were used to.

"A-aren't you here to supervise our work...?"

"I just heard this island had saltpeter and came to get some. Is there someone here in charge of sales?"

"D-did anyone come with you?"

"No. I came alone."

The miners cried out in alarm at his answer.

"Run, quickly! No, I don't know how you got here, but take me with you. Please!"

"Were you all brought here by force?"

"Every one of us! Those bastards..."

As one miner shouted indignantly, a whip cracked sharply behind them. Every miner fell to the ground in terror at the sound.

"Quiet! What's all this chatter? I can't even step away to take a shit without you... Huh?"

The whip-wielding overseer spotted Turan and frowned in bewilderment. The currents around Parayan Island made it difficult to reach unless one deliberately set a course for it, so only the usual visitors ever came. He had distinctly heard that no ships had arrived today, which should mean no visitors. Who was this stranger?

"And you are?"

"Here to buy saltpeter."

"I wasn't told anyone was coming... No, more to the point, if you want saltpeter, you should ask in the village. Why come here? Which pirate crew are you with?"

"I'm not with a pirate crew. But have you filled this mine with kidnapped people?"

At Turan's question, the miners nearby shot startled, anxious looks at the overseer. After glaring murderously at them, he seemed to realize something at last and forced a smile.

"Well, first, might I ask where you're from...?"

"Don't make me ask twice."

At Turan's abrupt shift to a commanding tone, the overseer shuddered and hastily nodded.

"Y-yes, we have."

"Which house rules this area?"

"I-it isn't a house. It's the Covinus Pirates!"

"Pirates?"

"Yes. We serve the great pirate Lord Covinus as our leader..."

According to the overseer's explanation, delivered in a fawning voice, Covinus was a noble's illegitimate son, a pirate wizard who had long terrorized the South Sea. His ability was too formidable to dismiss him as a mere pirate; he had even defeated armies sent by other houses to subjugate him on several occasions. He commanded dozens of knights and warships and ruled several islands, Parayan among them.

Listening quietly, Turan pointed at the miners.

"So this Covinus bastard ordered you to kidnap people and make them mine saltpeter here?"

"Pardon? Yes... Though saltpeter isn't all we mine."

Now that he mentioned it, the carts scattered around held several other glittering minerals besides saltpeter. Come to think of it, why operate an entire mine to extract large quantities of something with little use beyond fraudulently selling it as an elixir of immortality? They were probably digging it out alongside the other minerals and selling it as a sideline.

Looking at the shabbily dressed miners, Turan murmured,

"I don't like this."

Interfering in how another shepherd managed his sheep might be overstepping his bounds, but stealing someone else's sheep was another matter. It might have been different if they at least treated their captives well, but they hadn't even done that. The overseer went pale at his words.

"Th-there's a knight in his service here! I'll speak to him for you..."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."

Originally, Turan had intended to mine the saltpeter himself if it was lying around freely like the sulfur had been, or negotiate a reasonably low price if it had an owner. But the sight before him erased any such intention. Why on earth should he pay kidnappers for their goods?

Turan gave the miners a quiet order.

"Everyone, over here."

Though he had used no animal control magic, every miner walked toward him as if entranced. There were thirty-five in all. Opening their ankle shackles with lock-picking magic was easy enough.

"I-it's off..."

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Please send me home, great wizard!"

Some marveled at their loosened shackles, others sobbed their thanks, and one clutched his trousers, begging to be sent home. Turan gently freed himself from the man's grip and spoke.

"I'm going to deal with the village first. I'll leave things here to you."

"Wh-what do you mean by things here...?"

"Him."

When Turan pointed at the overseer, the man tried to flee in alarm. But he was only an ordinary human, and a simple application of telekinesis was enough to send him sprawling. Turan took away his only weapon, the whip, tossed it aside, and left the mine. Desperate screams rang out behind him.

* * *

The coastal village was an hour's walk from the mine, but for Turan, carried by Vije, it was practically on his doorstep. In broad daylight, the shadows of the black eagle and Turan fell across the ground. The pirates quickly noticed them and pointed skyward.

"Someone's riding a bird! No, hanging from a bird...?"

"Is he a wizard? Someone tell the village chief!"

While the pirates milled about in confusion at the mysterious stranger's sudden appearance, Turan looked down at them and reached into his pouch. He withdrew his fist, clutching a handful of pitch-black powder.

"This is our first time using it in a real fight. You remember, Vije? Don't be startled."

Once Vije chirped her understanding, Turan scattered the Spirit of Fire over the village. As he cast ignition magic, an explosion erupted on the ground.